Life Upturned
by favoritefullbloodedhawiian
Summary: A tragic night four years prior is a night that still haunts the dreams of one Severus Snape. The night resulted in the feigned death of the brightest mind in Potter's generation, a secret Snape held closely to him as a ditch-effort to appease at least one of the girl's wishes. The time has come, however, for her to rejoin the Wizarding World; the war demands her assistance.
1. Chapter 1

__**Author's Note: Hello all! As some of you may know, I'm in the middle of a sequel to my most popular story, "Are You Nobody, Too?" I usually make a point to focus on one story at a time, but this plot popped into my hand and simply demanded to be written. I hope you'll take the opportunity to check out both and please, review! **

_ His stomach churned and the bile rose in his throat. He was forever grateful for the mask forced on his face because keeping it blank would be utterly impossible at the moment. The Dark Lord's robes swirled around his bare feet, making it look like he was partaking in a grotesque dance._

_ "Play with the trollop, my friends," he hissed, and the rest of the Death Eaters stood to attention. "That's all Mudbloods are—playthings."_

_ The trollop he referred to lay crumpled in the center of the circle of monsters, already having been played with by several. Her usually bushy hair was presently matted against her already bruising neck, and the porcelain skin of her face was contorted in anguish. Her honey brown eyes kept landing on his obsidian ones, but the fear they radiated told him she held no recognition._

_ Probably for the better, he lamented. Helping the girl was not a viable option at the moment anyway, not if she hoped to escape with her life. _

_ He watched with disgust as the brilliantly blonde head of Lucius Malfoy slowed his thrusting atop her until he reached a shuddering halt. For his own sake, he averted his eyes as the contents of his stomach once again threatened to reunite with the world. _

_ His hopes were shattered not a moment later, though, when the Dark Lord swept to a standstill before him. "Severus, my faithful friend," he hissed. "Shouldn't you like a go? Teach the Mudblood her last lesson, so to speak?"_

_ Men erupted in guffaws around him, and Snape fought the clenching in his jaw. "Much obliged, my Lord," he murmured, "but the girl…does nothing for me. She'll forever be Potter's whore in my eyes."_

_ The Dark Lord's eyes flashed dangerously red. "Severus," he spat, "I said _go_." With his last word, Snape felt the crippling hand of the Imperius Curse snaking its way up his spine._

_ It was normally a spell he could fight without much hesitance, but not from the Dark Lord's hand. He bent despite his best efforts and crawled pitifully over to the girl currently doing her damndest to disappear into the ground beneath her._

_ Her eyes were alight with unshed tears as she gasped at his freshly unmasked face. "No," she whispered, though her countenance told him she knew it was futile. "Please, Professor—I'm begging you."_

_ "Explore her, Severus," the Dark Lord called, and again, there was laughter._

_ Snape fought the spell's control as hard as his nerves would allow, but even as he ripped down the zipper of his fly, he couldn't help himself. He thrust into her, as deeply as the Dark Lord wished it, but his mind instead whirred to block the affect her screams had on it._

_ He finished the exact moment he felt a breach in control, and he seized it. Sliding his wand down through the sleeve of his robes, he pushed it firmly into her hand. Her eyes widened when she realized what he was doing._

_ "Remove yourself, Miss Granger," he said against clenched teeth. "Go—I'll distract them."_

_ He made to push off of her, but she caught his lapel. "I'll not let you damn yourself," she murmured but her voice was beaten, broken, as was the body it left. She held him tightly and within a moment he felt the sickening tug of side-along Apparation. _

_ The last thing he heard before he and the girl he'd forced himself upon materialized in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place was the condemning shriek of a dark wizard scorned._

_ The wee hours of the morning left them alone, panting and broken, in the kitchen of a house fully occupied but harried footsteps on the stairs told them they wouldn't be so for long. Snape held out a hand to the quivering girl before him, but she rounded on him ferociously before he reached._

_ "You couldn't save me," she muttered in a panic. "You did your best, but you were Imperio'd, and had to watch as they killed me. Understand?"_

_ "Miss Granger—" Snape began, but she growled with an intensity he hadn't believed her capable of._

_ "Understand?" she screeched in tones she tried to make hushed._

_ "Potter can't survive without you," he beseeched. "This war—needs you."_

_ Her face crumpled. "I can't save him," she whispered, her voice raw and painful. "I nearly offered him up so that it would stop."_

_ Snape immediately knew that wasn't entirely true, but she rushed on before he could comment._

_ "You couldn't save me," she murmured, and spun on her heel just as Mrs. Weasley flicked on the dim kitchen light._

_ And with that, Hermione Granger sealed her death._

Severus sat bolt right up in his sweat-soaked mattress, beads of it dripping off his brow. He dropped his head into his hands heavily.

It was the same nightmare that had taunted his subconscious for the better half of the four years that had passed since the girl vanished. The trace he put on her retreating form told her that she was at least alive and residing in the States, but Snape wasn't fool enough to think his presence was welcomed in the slightest.

He had done as she'd asked—obeying her last wish was truly the least he could do, seeing as Merlin knew he owed her a great deal more. It could be argued that Hermione Granger's feigned death was the hardest the war had dealt the Order to date, but that war was far from over. Indeed, Granger's disappearance had certainly lengthened the battle, Snape would've bet. But he couldn't deny her the isolation she sought. Not after what she'd been through.

He ran a hand through his matted hair but started as his fireplace blazed green. The Headmaster, clothed unusually in his own nightclothes, ushered hurriedly into the room.

"I do beg your indulgence, Severus," he breathed, "but the time has come."

Snape's eyes widened and he shook his head dangerously. "You can't mean—"

"I do," Dumbledore interrupted. "Fetch her."

Snape tore the sheets off his body and snatched his wand almost inadvertently. "You cannot ask me to bring the girl back into her own personal Hell," he seethed, "because I will not do it."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "It's happened, Severus."

Snape furrowed his brow but did not lower his wand.

Dumbledore continued as if the weight of the world was placed upon his shoulders. "Lord Voldemort has managed to completely manipulate Harry's mind. The boy has turned into a very dangerous puppet. And the shock of a mate returning from the dead is the pull he needs to come back to us."

Snape opened and closed his mouth several times before shrugging into his outdoor frock. "Well, bugger all."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: the praise I got for the first chapter was wonderful! Please, please keep it up-it inspires me to update more quickly.**

Snape Apparated into an alleyway off of one of the main streets in Beverly, Massachusetts. An unease he hadn't expected clenched his stomach and he paused, leaning against a grubby brick wall to calm his erratic heartbeat.

He looked decidedly Muggle in a pair of dark jeans, boots, and a white button-down shirt. When he braved Beverly's streets, he garnered no strange looks for which he was grateful. He discretely produced the slip of parchment on which he'd kept a paper trail of her trace and checked her address for perhaps the seventh time.

When he could not prolong the affair any longer, Snape found Cabot St. and turned down a divergent path. She lived in a beautiful town, but her home would win no awards. It was obvious that it was immaculate, but that's all you could say on its behalf. It was perhaps half the size of the entire Gryffindor common room and was wedged between two atrocities that dwarfed it. He had trouble determining whether the vehicle parked in front of it would even start any longer.

Upon seeing the manner in which she'd lived for four years now, his heart sank under the weight of immense guilt. This destitution was his fault. The brightest witch Hogwarts had seen in decades had been reduced to symbolic prostitution in America on account of his actions.

He swallowed hard.

Before he could bolt, he steeled himself and walked determinedly up the pathway. He rapped on the door three times, and with each he felt like he was damning himself.

This was cruel. This would torture her. She'd explicitly instructed him to let her wallow in her own fabricated death, and who was he to drag her out of it? He silently cursed Dumbledore for putting him in this position.

He was pulled out of his brooding, however, when the door was pulled open to reveal a smiling face he'd last seen begging for her life.

For a moment, he was staring at the frizzy-haired eleven-year-old with her hand perpetually stuck in the air. But when he shook his head, he noticed the physical changes that came with maturity and, certainly, a hard lifestyle.

Her trademarked bushy hair had calmed becomingly to smooth, light brown waves that hung nearly to her hips. Her skin was as porcelain and as clear as ever but her eyes, as pretty as he remembered, now held an added dose of trauma in their depths. She was clothed like any other Muggle and it allowed him to see just how thin she'd become. Her collarbone protruded too far and only a belt held up her jeans.

His observations were halted, however, when the perfunctory greeting she'd begun died in her throat. Her eyes widened, and he saw her blink several times as if trying to convince herself he was some hallucination.

"I assure you, Miss Granger," he murmured gently, "I am truly here and I mean you no harm."

She gulped visibly and pursed her lips, clutching the doorframe for support. "Professor," she whispered finally, "what…how did you find me?" She spoke with a surprisingly accurate American accent, and he marveled at how unnatural it was to hear it from her lips.

Snape hesitated. "There is much to discuss Miss Granger, but I daresay the doorway is not the place to do it. Might we—" he gestured towards the innards of her home, but then thought better of it. "If you are uncomfortable, of course, we can certainly go some place more public."

She glanced fearfully beyond his shoulder, and then seemed to come to some sort of decision. She plastered a smile on her face and shook her head. "No, no—how rude of me. Please, come in."

And she shut the door quickly in his wake.

xXx

Hermione sipped on her blessedly warm coffee as she mulled over the bills sprawled across her poor excuse for a dining table. They gave her the kind of headache only time would kill, but she'd pushed them off long enough already.

She sighed heavily when she realized she would definitely need to pick up the third job she'd been contemplating.

She strived not to feel bitter as she swept her hair away from her face. This was truly the bed she'd made entirely on her own. She didn't regret it either—she often thought she'd rather have actually died than have returned to the Wizarding World those four years ago, but it didn't change the fact that she never envisioned a life quite this difficult for herself.

The States had been kind to Hermione, that was true. She had friends here—not quite friends like the ones she'd abandoned, but friends she could go out with if the urge ever struck her, which wasn't often.

A sharp rap at her door pulled her out of her thoughts and she rolled her eyes. The bill collector was incessant, and she'd have to do a lot of sweet-talking to get out of it this time around.

She flipped her hair over her shoulders and pulled the door wide with an exaggeratedly cheerful smile plastered on before receiving a jolt deep in the pit of her stomach.

His lank black hair hung in curtains like she remembered. His nose was as hooked, as crooked, as ever. The only true differences were the Muggle clothing, which was admittedly disconcerting, and the noticeable addition of what seemed like chronic exhaustion. His cheeks were sallow, his pale and papery. If she hadn't been so unwittingly terrified, she might've inquired after his well-being.

As it were, she was strongly considering the option of from the man who was a pointed representation of the life she'd gone immense lengths to escape and she was forced to wonder if this was actually happening or if it was a new brand of nightmares.

His voice rang in her ears, the same baritone drawl she remembered from the Potions classroom, as he seemed to read her mind and assure her of the validity of his presence and she shook her head.

If he wanted her dead, she'd have been so already and she'd come to the decision the night she left him shivering on the floor of Number 12 Grimmauld Place that she would never again doubt his allegiance to the Order. He had saved her, after all—even if it did result in her feigned death anyway. Nothing was stopping him from playing into Lord Voldemort's hand that night—she could actually make a strong argument for the opposite notion—so she had no right to mistrust his intentions.

After steeling herself and pulling on every iota of courage she'd mastered in four years' time, she ushered him into her clean but pitiful home and shut the door in his wake.

He waited hesitantly not three feet within the home and it was clear he was uncomfortable in her presence. She'd sighed and reminded herself it wouldn't be so unless for the best of all reasons, but just feared what that reason would be.

She led him to the sofa and wandlessly vanished the bills she'd been mulling over. She turned to meet his incredulous stare.

"Wandless magic?" he murmured, dumbfounded. It was a feat he'd accomplished, but not after nearly a decade of undivided focus.

Hermione shrugged. "I snapped my wand that—well, that night—and did all I could to live as a Muggle. It was only after a year that my magic got restless and started utilizing itself in the most inconvenient places. Seeing as Ollivander's isn't right down the lane, I had a bit of work to do to control it." She sighed. "It's not perfect, but it's better than inadvertently obliterating whole aisles of the market."

She spoke very cavalierly of the world she fled but there was an embedded since of loss in her voice that even he had trouble picking up on. It was well-hidden, but it was there.

He sighed from where he sat as she seated herself lightly across from him. "I want you to know that I would not be here unless it was imperative, which I regret to tell you it has become."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "The war still isn't over?" At his raised eyebrow, she forged on. "It's not like they deliver the profit around here any. I only hoped that it had ended, and in our favor at that."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "I assure you, Miss Granger, the war is far from over." He tossed an idea around in his mind before sighing. "My position in the war was, obviously, unveiled that night but it appears the Headmaster's protection extends farther than we ever knew. I have been untouchable since, but the war has been slow in progressing."

She scrunched up her face. "I guess I hold a fair bit of responsibility for that," she murmured. "If I hadn't dragged you out, you may've been able to save your ass. I was just so sure leaving you there was certain death."

Snape laughed at her use of the curse-word. "How undeniably American you've become, Miss Granger," he said lightly. He sobered quickly, though. "It is true that leaving me would've be sure death—you should hold no guilt over that. I can do more for the effort if I'm not in a box, and I suppose I have you to thank for that."

She found herself really uncomfortable accepting anything akin to praise from the man and merely ducked her head abashedly.

He smoothed out the wrinkles in his slacks. "The reason for my calling, Miss Granger," he said finally, "is that the Dark Lord has found a new puppet, so to speak."

He had hopped to reveal the truth to her in as easy a way as possible, but how does one tread lightly around this?

She furrowed her brow, but leaned in, intrigued.

Snape sighed, not reveling in his task. "It appears his perfected his control over Potter's mind and as such sees fit to manipulate the boy like a marionette doll. He nearly sawed off his own leg at the Dark Lord's suggestion—it took many wands to sedate him."

Hermione gasped, immediately seeming to understand the gravity of the situation. "Dear God," she murmured softly. "Poor…poor Harry."

Snape nodded. "It is rather gruesome. And it seems so far infallible. We've come to a standstill in his progress."

When he didn't continue, Hermione's eyes shot to his. She narrowed them. "So what brings you here then, Professor?" she said accusingly. "Surely you didn't come just to give me a progress report."

Snape nodded deeply. "It is the Headmaster's belief that Potter needs a blast from the past, so to speak."

She knew what he was going to say before he ever said it, but it didn't make the blow any easier.

"No," she whispered.

He spoke as though she hadn't. "He requests your return." He softened at her stricken expression. "Miss Granger, it may be the only way to save the Wizarding World—not to mention Potter's life. Its no secret that last means less to me than it does to you, but alas," he droned, "I should think you still care for the boy's well-being."

She narrowed her eyes angrily. "Of course I do," she seethed. "It's just that—" But before she could explain just _what_ it was, she was halted by the sounds of footsteps trampling down the stairs.

Snape withdrew his wand and made to stand in front of her. "Are you expecting someone?" he whispered urgently.

She pushed his wand away gently. "There's no need for that," she murmured, but the unease didn't entirely leave her face. She rose from her seat and stepped around Snape just as the perpetrator reached the landing and launched itself into Hermione's arms.

She spun slowly, giving Snape ample time to investigate the bundle on her hip. No more than four years old, the girl had beautiful black ringlets that hung to her ribcage. Her eyes were beautiful replicas of Hermione's, as was her pretty, doll-like face. She was thin, small, even for a toddler but her eyes held wisdom perhaps beyond her years.

Hermione gauged his expression carefully but when it remained utterly blank, she sighed. "Professor Snape," she said slowly, "meet Violet. Your daughter."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: the reviews are such a nice treat every time I check my email! Please keep them up, and if there's anything you'd like to see, just leave a suggestion. I'm always open to them!**

Severus Snape immediately resumed the seat he'd just abandoned, feeling suddenly like there wasn't enough air in the room. The entire time, he couldn't look away from the wide toffee eyes captivating his.

He was vaguely aware of Hermione bidding the girl a chore but didn't regain any semblance of reality until the little one returned, producing a glass full of water in front of him.

"Here you've come to drag me back to a world I've been running from, and you're the one who's gone deaf and dumb," Hermione said, attempting and failing at humor.

The little one—Violet, Snape thought he'd heard—crawled onto Hermione's lap and then behind her, peering out at him from behind her mother's shoulder. If she'd heard Hermione's pronouncement, she wasn't surprised by it.

He rubbed his hands across his face, suddenly overwhelmed. "How—how do you know she's…"

Hermione cocked an eyebrow when he trailed off. "How do I know she's yours?" Before answering, she turned to the girl. "Why don't you go practice your song, Vi—you have a lesson later."

The girl nodded, still not speaking a word, and scurried to the far side of the room where she plopped down at a piano Snape hadn't noticed before.

Hermione spoke more softly now. "The last thing I did with a wand," she muttered, "was to collect and identify each of the DNA samples and store them away should I ever return." She shrugged. "Obviously that never happened, but when I found out I was pregnant, a doctor was able to determine paternity using them."

Snape clamped down on the churning in his stomach. A daughter. He had a daughter. A daughter by the student he'd forced himself on, and he'd never known.

"Are you all right?" she said at last. "You look positively green."

He shook his head and eyed the girl hesitantly. "I—I wish you'd told me."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I didn't think fatherhood was something you were interested in."

Snape shut his eyes tightly. She had every right to insult him, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. "No child should be forced to suffer my incessant presence," he said finally, "but I could have offered you some support. Financially, at the very least. I know these four years could not have been easy."

Hermione shrugged, but her face darkened. "We get by."

Snape scowled. "I could have made you comfortable. I owe you at least that."

Hermione raked a hand through her hair and listened to Violet thumping away at _Mary Had a Little Lamb_ for several long moments. "I've had a lot of time to mull all of this over," she said sullenly. "And I came to the decision long ago that you were every bit a victim that night as I was. Let me finish," she added when he opened his mouth to protest.

She studied him carefully long enough that he squirmed under her gaze, and Severus Snape didn't squirm. "You think I don't know how disgusted you were—how hard you tried to fight the Imperio. I knew. I could tell, but in my panic I ignored it. I spoke harshly, and I've since regretted it because I know it wasn't your fault, even if you don't."

She shrugged and returned her gaze to Violet. "It's not like it was all for naught," she said. "Vi is my life. I wake up so thankful for her every day because if it hadn't been for her, all of this," she motioned between them, "was sure to kill me."

Her pointed statement caused him to pause and follow her gaze to the beautiful little girl. When she finally got the notes correctly, she spun round and beamed at her mother with a smile that could rival the sun.

"Wonderful, darling! You're really getting it," Hermione exclaimed.

Snape furrowed her brow. "She doesn't speak much."

Hermione sighed sadly, and her face darkened further. "She doesn't speak at all."

He glanced at her in surprise. "What?"

Hermione nodded and collected her long hair into a ponytail. "She showed such intelligence at such a young age. She could have full conversations with me at two years old." She smiled with at the memory. "But with that intelligence came a very early penchant for magic, one she couldn't control. She was just three when the children at daycare began bullying her for it."

Snape felt an anger bubbling deeply within his chest.

"It went on for several months before I finally noticed a pattern of physical abuse. Without proof, I was left with no option but to pull her from daycare entirely. Her magic is so strong that she hasn't managed to restrain it—she's like her Mum with that—but that frustration has manifested itself in the need for control. It began with a poor appetite, which still isn't up to par. But she's since taken to silence, and has been so for over a year now."

Snape's face drained of all color. It actually surprised him how much rage coursed through his veins. "How dare they," he growled. "Where were the adults?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's a question I constantly ask myself."

Snape hung his head heavily. "It was wrong of me to come," he said at long last. "How foolish we've been to think you've just been twiddling your thumbs here in America, waiting for us to come and collect you." He sighed heavily, and stood. "I am tremendously sorry to have disturbed your solitude, Miss Granger."

He turned towards her door, but her soft voice stopped him. "Wait." He stopped but did not turn.

"The Wizarding World has been looming over my head for the past four years," she said sadly. "I ran from my problems, and that never felt right. While I almost wish I could forget you ever came, I—I can't abandon Harry. Not again." She closed her eyes, almost not believing the words leaving her mouth. "And I've run out of safe places for Vi. Everywhere I send her turns out catastrophically, and it's not like I can afford to stay home with her indefinitely."

Snape turned and studied her carefully. "Please do not do this because you feel indebted," he said at last. "I daresay this war has taken enough from you."

Hermione shrugged and stood as well. "It's taken from us all. I'm a mum now and it's time I faced the music."

Snape bowed deeply. "Then it would be my pleasure to escort you back, Miss Granger."

Hermione smiled. "But first, we've got to pack, and I daresay a wand will quicken the process."

Snape nodded and withdrew his.

"And one last thing."

Snape furrowed his brow but faced her.

She cocked her head to the side. "Since I'm no longer your student, is it completely out of the question to request that you call me Hermione?"

Snape dropped his wand arm, feeling for once entirely out of his element as her daughter—_his_ daughter—ran over and wormed herself up to Hermione's hip. "Of course not—Hermione."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Oooh, this one was so fun to write! I hope it's as fun to read and if it is, please, please be sure to leave a review! Thanks so much.**

Severus lugged several suitcases down to the Granger's front porch by hand when it became apparent that too much magic startled the young girl. She had yet to come within ten feet of him and he fervently decided she didn't need another reason to hide behind her mother.

When the necessities were stowed away and the neighbors informed of Hermione's and Violet's intended "holiday," there was nothing left but to lock up the home for an indeterminable amount of time.

Severus tried desperately to regain control of his body, which had gone stiff at the revelation of his daughter and had yet to return to normal. He needed all of his focus to Apparate, but with the girl so close, he found it hard to keep his eyes on his path, never mind his thoughts.

Finally, they reached the spot Severus had used to Apparate into Massachusetts, and he turned to Hermione slowly. "Are you sure you're ready for this, Miss—Hermione?"

She visibly tightened her grip on Violet's hand, but set her jaw. "There's too much at stake to bow to my ruddy fears," she murmured. British slang in an American accent would never sound right, Snape decided.

He pursed his lips, but nodded. He withdrew his wand and held his hand out to hers, and she took it immediately. When it became obvious that the girl had no intentions of following her mother's example, Severus bent to her level.

No one could say that Severus Snape was good with children, but in that moment, no one would say he was rotten, either. He did his best to ignore the physical attributes she shared with her father and focused inherently more on those she received from her mother—the button nose, the long lashes, the perfect pink lips—as he spoke. "Violet, I'm going to take you and your Mum on a little trip. Call it a vacation," he said with a very rare smile, "but in order to do so, I need you to take my hand."

Hermione studied him for a moment with a look he couldn't identify before it disappeared. She nudged her daughter, murmuring, "Go on, Vi—he won't bite." To Snape, she added, "She isn't big on physical contact."

Finally, Severus felt tiny fingers landing gently in the palm of his hand. He returned his gaze to the girl before him and found her beautiful toffee eyes staring at him with unabashed interest.

He straightened before she could revoke the contact and immediately felt the all-too familiar tug in his stomach. The world spun uncomfortably around him, pulling him this way and that until finally he felt the ground beneath his feet, coming to a graceful landing as always.

The same could not be said for his two counterparts.

Hermione landed on her knees with a heavy thud, fighting the nausea that wracked her suddenly. "That's something I certainly didn't miss," she groaned.

They both turned their attention to the little one, who currently lay sprawled on her back with her eyes firmly shut, both hands pressed to her belly.

"Oh, Vi—" Hermione began.

Eager to stop the child's suffering, Severus rummaged around in his coat pockets until he managed to withdraw a vial. He knelt beside the girl and managed to convince her to swallow the contents. "It'll help settle your stomach," he murmured gently. His next words were aimed towards Hermione. "Fights nausea—I thought you'd handle the Apparation more poorly than you did."

When Violet's skin returned to its normal hue, Severus and Hermione hauled her to her feet and she clutched her mother's hand tightly, now weary of anything Snape was going to suggest.

"Perfect," Snape muttered mostly to himself. "I've managed to turn her against me in the span of an hour."

"She's four," Hermione laughed. "Belly aches are weekly occurrences—usually faked ones when she wants to get out of preschool. She'll forget it in ten minutes."

For the fist time since they'd landed, Hermione took the opportunity to take in their surroundings. The first sight of the Wizarding World in over four years nearly made her heart stop. She knew they were coming, and yet it was still overwhelming. They stood in the center of Diagon Alley, a place that held mostly wonderful memories for her.

Except for the instance of her kidnap. That happened here, too.

Severus, only too privy to that information, led them quickly into the Leaky Cauldron, eager to remove reminders of anything painful. It was bad enough he was dragging her back into the thick of it; he didn't have to parade painful memories in front of her, too.

He nodded curtly to Tom, the bartender, who returned it but stopped cold at the sight of his female companions. News of Hermione Granger's death had spread far and wide, and her capture had happened right outside of the barkeep's doors. For a moment, he seemed to be trying to convince himself that it was merely his eyes playing tricks, and Snape had every intention of aiding him in that pursuit.

He wasted no time in leading them to the fireplace and threw the Floo powder down just as Tom was making his way over to study Hermione fully. It was a relief when the floor seemed to disappear from beneath them.

Hermione pulled Violet close to her as the two of them tumbled gracelessly onto the padded carpet that had always symbolized safety for her. Severus hauled both of them up this time before sidestepping the pair of them and making his way over to meet the Headmaster, who had just risen from his high-backed chair in the center of his office.

"Ah, Severus," the benevolent man sighed. "At last."

"Headmaster," the dark man said briskly, bowing ever so slightly in respect.

The exchange gave Hermione ample time to brush herself off before pushing Violet forcefully behind her. The man had seemingly aged 20 years in the span of four. He was infinitely slower than she remembered, and his infamous twinkle had definitely been dulled. This was more jarring than Diagon Alley had been, and she wondered for a brief moment if she could actually do this. If she could face all of this again.

That line of thinking was halted when the Headmaster turned his gaze to Severus's guests. "Miss Granger," he breathed. "After all these years. Maturity becomes you, dear."

Hermione mimicked Snape and nodded briefly but stiffened when she felt Vi peek out from behind her legs cautiously. She watched Dumbledore's face pale, his mouth slackening in shock, before he quickly caught himself.

"My, my, who do we have here?" he asked in a fashion that was undeniably grandfatherly.

"My daughter, Violet," Hermione answered, shooting a glance at Snape who stood with his hands clasped tightly behind his back, stiff as a plank of hard wood.

Dumbledore smiled. "Children are such blessings, my dear, and I daresay she looks quite like her mother! But where is her father? Surely he could have made the journey!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, wondering if he was trying to pry the truth from her because there was no way a man that wise could be so naïve. To look at Violet was to look at her father—there was no denying that resemblance.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, wholeheartedly agreeing with Hermione's inner monologue. "Her father is the man who escorted them here, and unless you've been rendered blind in the hours I've been gone, I feel confident when I say you can see that for yourself."

The Headmaster made a show of glancing from the child to the Potions professor and back again before chuckling. "Now that you've said something, the likeness _is _uncanny. I'd say she's an even split between the two of you!" He eyed the young girl over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. "I wonder whose magic hers will take after."

Hermione and Severus narrowed their eyes in a likeness neither of them noticed before both moving unconsciously to block their daughter from view. Snape didn't know how Hermione felt, but he wasn't comfortable discussing Violet's participation in the Wizarding World until after he was certain the war was completely through.

If Dumbledore noticed their actions, he didn't let on. Instead, he extended a hand to Hermione. "You've certainly come a long way, my dear. I hate to through you to the wolves, so to speak, quite so soon after your arrival, but—"

Severus emitted a growl of frustration. "At least let her deposit her luggage in her rooms, Headmaster. For Merlin's sake, she's only just stepped foot here."

"I would like to, Severus—my only fear is the possibility of her discovery," Dumbledore said gently.

Severus furrowed his brow. "Please tell me you've told them."

Hermione held a hand out. "Told who what?"

She was promptly ignored.

"I know I said that I would, but the more I thought about it, the more it felt wrong. A sentiment like that shan't come from me."

Severus growled more ferociously this time, and immediately regretted it when Violet jumped at the sound. "You haven't told them?" he seethed.

Hermione stepped between the two men and crossed her arms defiantly. "Told who _what_?" she demanded.

Severus rubbed a hand over his face, now bone-weary. "The Headmaster," he spat, "has yet to inform what remains of the order that you're not in fact deceased as they've been led to the believe and that in reality, you're under the same roof as they are."

Hermione abruptly paled and took an involuntary step back. "They're—they're here? Harry, Ron, Ginny—the Weasley's…and they don't know?" She rounded angrily on the pair of them. "What am I to do? Pop into the Great Hall and shout surprise?"

"I daresay that would cause quite the scene, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said lightly. "You must understand I feared one of them might let news slip to Harry, and the element of surprise is the only ground we have on that front. I couldn't risk it."

Neither Severus nor Hermione was willing to swallow the bull he was shoveling. It seemed there wasn't time to argue, however, for it was at that precise moment that a knock sounded.

Hermione froze even as the Headmaster bid the visitor to enter. She watched from behind Snape as her former Head of House popped her head into the room, her eyes landing immediately on Dumbledore.

"You wanted to see us, Headmaster?" McGonagall inquired.

"Yes, Minerva, please do come in," he said jovially.

"You bastard—you planned this whole charade," Snape said through clenched teeth as Hermione, still unseen, clutched at his arm.

"Severus, there is no need for such language. I merely thought it best to pull the curtain down all at once, as it were."

And one by one, those still living of the Order Hermione once knew trickled in. She watched in ever-growing horror as Ron and Ginny, both remarkably aged and yet unchanged, took their place beside Professor McGonagall. Their parents followed suit, as did the remaining Weasley clan. Remus, Tonks, Neville, and Kingsley all crowded around the Headmaster's desk.

The entire scenario felt like a time bomb ticking away. She needn't wait long for it to detonate, however, because in a matter of seconds, McGonagall cleared her throat. "I don't know if you're aware of it or not, Severus, but there's someone attached rather firmly to your back. That better not be a student you're trying a new detention strategy on, because that's cruel even for—"

She seemed to lose all ability to speak, however, when Hermione bit the inside of her cheek fully and sidestepped her former Potions professor. Keeping a firm hand on his elbow, it took every semblance of strength she possessed to stand firm as she watched around thirteen people go completely stark white. Ron, who'd deposited himself in a visitor's chair, jumped to his feet like it'd caught fire. Ginny's eyes grew wide and her mouth long. McGonagall's hand flew to her mouth. Molly Weasley immediately burst into tears, and Neville looked like he was reasonably questioning his own sanity.

"What is this?" Ron whispered at first, but then shouted it when no one answered. He took several steps towards Hermione but it seemed that's as close as he dare get, lest she disappear again. He studied her face in absolute disbelief for what seemed like an eternity before she saw recognition ignite like a flame in the depths of his eyes.

"It can't be…" he told himself over and over. "It can't be."

It was Remus who eventually stepped forward, as incredulous as his former student, his mouth gaping.

"Hermione?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Here you are! Again, reviews are appreciated :)**

Hermione Granger had learned to cope with much in the four years since she'd abandoned the Wizarding World. Coming back from the grave was not one of them.

She cleared her throat, uncomfortably aware of Violet clinging to her shirttails, as she stepped forward. "Err…hello, Remus."

The werewolf blinked furiously, nearly losing his footing, before taking an enormous step away from her. "How—?"

The question died on his tongue, however, when Hermione saw a flash of ginger as Ron tackled abruptly to the floor. "You bastard," he spat through clenched teeth. "You-told-us-she-died!"

Severus kicked the boy from him easily, but made no other attempt to avenge his attack. Within moments, Remus and Arthur had hooked Ron by each arm, restraining him with as much force as necessary but looking quite like they'd each swallowed Hagrid's Treacle Tart. "How could you?" Ron screeched as though he hadn't been interrupted, fighting the arms that held his.

Snape glanced at Hermione, unwilling to throw her under the bus, as it were, so she took the job out of his hands. "It was my request, Ron."

He started at the sound of her addressing him, a sound he was sure he'd never hear again, and in an American accent no less. "You wanted that? To leave us?" He scrunched up his face, regarding her incredulously. "I don't understand."

Hermione shook her head and managed to transfer Violet's trembling form behind Snape's back without anyone noticing before she stepped cautiously towards her old friend. "How much do you know about…about the night that—"

"The night you died?" said a voice from behind him, and Ginny Weasley, swollen with a pregnancy Hermione had just noticed, her face contorted in a disbelief she knew she'd caused, stepped forward. "Everything. We know you were—forgive me—taken by Death Eaters, assaulted, and we _thought_ Snape was too late to save you." She shot a menacing glare at her former Professor, who met it with a glare of his own.

Hermione ran a hand through her hair, uncertain of how to proceed. "It's all true—except for, obviously, the last bit. Professor Snape wasn't too late. In fact," she continued, throwing a glance his way, "he was the reason we escaped. He fought the Imperius he was under long enough to thrust his wand into my hand, and I managed to Apparate into Grimmauld Place."

A third voice chimed up behind Ginny. "Impossible," Molly Weasley whispered, stepping up to study Hermione for herself. "I was there—I found Severus that night, huddled on the kitchen floor. That was when he told me…you'd…he couldn't…"

Hermione reached a hand out tentatively, and Molly grasped it for dear life. "You missed my departure my seconds," she whispered, her throat catching.

She turned her attention to Ron, whose anger seemed to have dissipated and was instead replaced by a powerful sorrow. "But please believe me when I say I never wanted to leave you, that was never my intention. I just—I had to get away. After that night, I wanted nothing to do with magic and I tried damn hard to rid it from my life. It wasn't long until I started to regret leaving so rashly, but didn't have the courage to return until Professor Snape showed up at my door in Massachusetts."

The faces around her sobered instantly and she was overwhelmed momentarily when a weepy Ginny threw her arms around the older girl's neck. It wasn't very long, however, until she managed to hug her friend back.

Hermione sucked back the tears that threated to spill as she pulled back and plastered a smile on her face. "And what's this?" she exclaimed, touching Ginny's belly gently.

Ginny beamed like any mother-to-be should. "I'm nearly seven months," she said. "I'm so sad you missed the wedding—Harry would truly have loved you to be there."

At the mention of the boy's name, the room tensed considerably, and Hermione closed her eyes. A wedding. She'd missed a wedding, a pregnancy—God knew what else. "How is he?"

Ginny swiped at her eyes in embarrassment. "It's awful, Hermione. He might very well end up killing himself, and he hasn't the wherewithal to even know what's happening."

Hermione tucked an errant lock of fiery hair behind Ginny's ear. "That's why I'm here."

Remus started at this. "To help Harry?"

Hermione glanced at Snape for help, who stepped forward. "It is the Headmaster's notion—a belief I share—that the shock of Miss Granger's return might startle Potter back to his senses, thus forcing the Dark Lord out."

He frowned at the blank stares he received, realizing his pronouncement fell on entirely deaf ears. He was left wondering why until Neville, who had yet to speak, finally stepped forward, his face contorted with bewilderment. "What in the devil is that behind you?"

Severus immediately realized his mistake, and threw an apologetic glance at Hermione who'd paled abruptly. Closing the space between them quickly, she scooped her daughter up and nestled her protectively to her chest. Violet peered at the crowd through the wayward curls that'd escaped her ponytail and promptly hid her face in her mother's shoulder when she say the dubious stares she was receiving.

"This is my daughter, Neville," Hermione said haughtily, "and I'd appreciate it if you could all close your jaws. You're scaring the living daylights out of her."

They all obeyed immediately, shamefaced. All but one.

Ron growled ferociously—if Hermione hadn't known better, she would've feared him—and said, "Why, for fuck's sake, does she look exactly like Snape?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note**: **Again, please review!**

A growl left Severus Snape's throat before he could stop it and he reached the boy in two menacing steps, forming a vice grip on the front of his shirt. "_Language_, Weasel," he spat menacingly, and a static ran through him when the tail end of fear sparked in the boy's eyes. "The girl is merely four and you will do well to watch your tongue."

Ron shook his head, his anger flaring back to life, and did his best to charge at his former Professor despite the arms currently hooking him. "Why does she look like you, Snape? Merlin help me, if I find out you touched her—"

Remus and Arthur tightened their hold on the erratic young man, but the faces in the room mirrored the horror they felt at hearing the suspicions they'd already come to voiced.

Severus clenched his jaw, but glanced back at Hermione and the now shivering young girl on her hip.

Hermione huffed in exasperation. "Really, Ronald, have you lost all semblance of self-control?" she seethed, rubbing Violet's back gently as the girl tried to bury herself deeper into her mother's shoulder. She made eye contact with Snape, and sighed. "Violet looks so much like Professor Snape because he fathered her."

Those around her paled abruptly more than they already had, and Hermione wondered vaguely how white they could get. McGonagall shot a withering glare at her colleague, unsure whether she should be furious or disgusted. Ginny let out a soft coo of sympathy. Neville shrunk back into the woodwork, eyeing the Professor like he was the Dark Lord using Polyjuice. And Ron finally stopped fighting, falling against Remus and Arthur like the wind had been knocked out of him. His eyes were wide, his face aghast, and his breathing got quicker.

"He raped you?" he breathed, but it took a lot out of him to do so. "He was one of them?"

Hermione shot an apologetic glance toward Snape before taking a hesitant step forward. "Professor Snape acted only under the Imperius. In truth, he was ready to forfeit his own life for mine that night." She took a deep breath. "What happened in the past is just that—it's in the past. It's been four years, held I hold no animosity towards anyone on this room, so you shouldn't either." She said the last part pointedly, with a glare in Ron's direction. "He's the only reason I'm standing here today. I'm more inclined to thank him than spurn him."

Snape swallowed hard, wholly uncomfortable by the unwarranted praise she was heaping on him, and he was sure he'd never felt lower. He watched as the quivering bundle Hermione held cautiously peeked out at him from beneath a curtain of black curls, eyeing him carefully.

He had no doubt she understood most of the conversation around them.

Ginny was the first to step forward. "Well, I'd love to meet her," she said with false cheer, "if you'll let me."

Hermione smiled and peeled Violet away from her, though the latter resisted. "It's all right, sweetheart, this is Mommy's friend." Once she was firmly planted on the ground, Violet peered up hesitantly at Ginny and, when she deemed her safe, offered up a friendly smile and stuck her hand out.

Ginny laughed. "My name is Ginny, love," she said softly, bending to Violet's level. "Your Mum was my best friend back at school."

Violet smiled again and nodded. Ginny's own smile faltered slightly and she glanced up at Hermione, who shook her head sadly. "She doesn't speak. Long story." Ginny bit her lip, but nodded, and after only a moment's hesitation, tousled the girl's curls playfully, earning herself a silent laugh.

Molly Weasley took this opportunity to bustle over. "Does she not eat, as well?" she exclaimed. "Skinny little thing, even for four." She offered her hand to Violet, who took it immediately, and called, "We'll be in the Great Hall fattening this one up," over her shoulder to Hermione.

She laughed, and waved her daughter away, at once immediately grateful for the entire Weasley clan. Fred and George were quick to start pulling out toys and antics to make Violet laugh, which wasn't hard to do, and even Arthur's eye was alight with the joys of childhood that had long been missing from the Burrow.

Only Ron remained after they'd all trickled out, followed by Neville. Remus released him when he was sure he'd reigned in his temper, and Ron took a cautious step toward her. "Hermione, I…" His voice broke. "I've missed you."

Hermione's heart pulled despite her, and she closed the distance between them, wiping the stray tear off of his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, Ron," she said quietly with a smile she hoped didn't look too forced. She caught Snape's eye, who stood with Remus, Tonks, Kingsley, and McGonagall beside the Headmaster who seemed to lack the slightest contrition for his actions. "But I'll catch up with you later, okay? I think I've got homework."

She smiled lightly and Ron tried to return it but didn't quite manage. He nodded, throwing another withering glare towards Snape, before taking his leave.

Hermione turned then and faced the senior members of the Order. "So," she said at last. "What'd I miss?"


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione let her head drop into her hands, suddenly taken by a debilitating exhaustion. All the names, places-things she'd left far in her past now threatened to overwhelm her as she tried earnestly to get up to speed.

"You've been appointed Minister of Magic, Kingsley," she said, glancing at the dark skinned man imploringly, "after Scrimegeour...he...what happened to him again?"

"He was captured soon after your-err-death," Kingsley said uncertainly. "He was tortured. Now, I never liked the man myself but you couldn't deny his loyality at the end. He died for it."

Hermione nodded. "Okay, that I've got. And Mad-Eye?"

Remus smirked. "Still as mad as ever."

Hermione glanced between he and Tonks, who sat beside him, and smiled. "And what've the two of you been up to?"

Tonks broke into an elated smile and surreptitiously slipped her hand into Remus's grasp. "We've a one-year-old son now, we can't wait for you to meet him."

"If we've gone through the niceties," Snape drawled, sending an exaggerated eyeroll toward the werewolf, "I think it's high time we got to the root of Miss-Hermione's return.". He caught himself, remembering her preferred name.

Hermione mimicked his eyeroll but was secretly grateful for the return of his snarky tone. Too many things were different and she was getting rather overwhelmed.

He continued as though he hadn't seen her gesture. "Potter's predicament is precarious, at best," he said plainly.

McGonagall fixed him with a glare that rivaled his own before turning her attention back onto her favorite student. "A possession of this magnitude is somethingwee have never seen," she said gently. "We've seen momentary lapses, brief things, but we've never seen a presence take hold for so long."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What's he like?" she asked. "Does he even recognize the lot of you?"

"Some days deliver more clarity than others, "Remus interjected. "His mind tends to volley between You-Know-Who's and his own. When he leans more to one side, he can recognize us. But there's a gray area in between that is truly frightening."

"In that gray area," Snaps continued for him, "Potter's mind is tugged in two separate but equally powerful directions. When he's in that blend, he is decidedly volatile, but so far it has only been dangerous to his own person."

Hermione nodded, but her chest tightened uncomfortably. Poor Harry.

McGonagall stood abruptly, tugging Hermione up by her elbow. "I daresay we have put Miss Granger through enough for one afternoon," she said with an air of finality. "We'll get a meal in you as it appeaus you haven't eaten properly in several weeks, and then you're in for a goodnight sleep.". She gave the Headmaster a ferocious glare as if daring him to disagree with her, but the man merely nodded.

"I think we could all do with a bite," Dumbledore relented. It left no room for argument and the Potions professor snarled, but followed suit.

Walking the halls was a blast from the past that had Hermione shaking by the time they reached the Great Hall. She could pinpoint precise spots from her past that held immensely potent memories for Harry, Ron, and her and though it was disconcerting, she decided it was also important. She made a mental note to venture these halls with Violet in tow someday soon.

She was grateful that the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling was glazed with a wonderful dusting of stars. It was calming and immediately soothed her fraying nerves.

Her eyes quickly followed the nearly deafening laughter coming from the Gryffindor House table which Hermione noted looked completely unchanged. Fred and George were in the middle of enchanting several bread rolls to dance all around Violet, who could not contain her hilarity.

Hermione quickly felt a warmth spreading through her chest which wasn't a frequent occurrence as of late. Magic had always been a source of such fear for her daughter; it was remarkable to see her now, garnering such enjoyment from it.

When the little one caught sight of her mother, her face split into a silent grin and she closed the distance between them with several leaping bounds. She pulled Hermione's hand to the seat she'd just abandoned, pointing elatedly at the carrots that were doing swan dives in goblets of pumpkin juice. Hermione laughed, and nodded, immediately grateful to Fred and George for having inspired such joy in the girl.

Violet glanced back at the group she'd just abandoned and seemed to consider them for a moment. Seeming to come to a decision, she galloped over to them and immediately slipped her hands through the arms of arms of the Gryffindor Head of House and her father. The former smiled delightedly at the girl and followed her eagerly but the latter froze, bewildered by the voluntary physical contact. Violet paused, sensing his hesitation and glanced up at him, wondering if she'd done something wrong.

Seeing very clearly the uncertainty in her eyes and not liking that he caused it, he plastered an immensely rare smile on his face and allowed himself to be led to the seat directly beside the girl's mother. He nodded when she pointed out the festivities to him, as well.

Hermione gaped at the man with wide eyes, instantly astounded that he'd allowed his actions to be dictated by a four-year-old, daughter or not. She couldn't help the stupid grin on her face if there'd been a wand at her head, and neither notice the curious exchange between Dumbledore and the Deputy Headmistress.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione wiped the sweat off her brow, finally having hung the last of the garments Violet had packed. She'd seen enough frill, lace, and pink to last her an eternity and made a mental note to speak with her daughter about the importance of a well-rounded wardrobe.

"I always knew you'd be in the Head Girl's room, but I thought it'd be as a student," Ginny said congenially. She came to stand beside Hermione, admiring the older girl's handywork.

Hermione nodded, glancing around appreciatively. The rooms were spacious, pristine, and she was well aware the Deputy Headmistress had a hand in enlarging them, but was impressed none the less. "The place is bigger than our home in Massachusetts, that's for sure."

Violet pranced over, apparently through with inspectinether new bedroom, and gave Hermione a nod of approval.

Hermione ushered Ginny into her new living room, rummaging through the new fridge and blessedly finding it well-stocked. She poured each of them a glass of water and collapsed into her favorite over-stuffed armchair, which had mysteriously found its way there from the Gryffindor common room.

Ginny considered Hermione carefully for the first time since the immense shock of her return. "Let's get to the nitty gritty," she commanded. "How have these years been? What do you do in Massachusetts, was it?"

Hermione nodded and contemplated just delivering her carefully construed, vague monologue but Ginny's earnestness steeled her. "It's...well, it was tough. Violet was, is, my saving grace and I'll forever be eternally grateful for having her, but...single motherhood is no easy feat financially.". She shrugged. "I had a myriad of jobs, none of which stuck. I was a waitress, bartender, teacher's aid, librarian, sometimes all at once, but it was never enough."

Ginny did her best to keep the sympathy off her face, because she knew it would annoy the older witch, but it was trying. "And Violet? You said she doesn't speak."

Hermione shook her head. "Her magic kicked in early, and the muggle children tried to beat the oddities out of her. She lost her voice very early on."

The sympathy won out this time, and Ginmy swiped at the embarrassing tears welling in her eyes. "How horrid," she breathed.

"I'm hoping that it's a temporary ailment," Hermione said sadly, eyeing the daughter who sat in the corner, mimicking her mother by sticking her four year old nose in a book. "She's so bright. Merlin knows my first instinct was to tell Professor Snape to stuff it when he told me the reason behind his visit, but in reality, this might very well be the key to Vi's recovery. I can't be selfish and keep her from that."

"Is it weird? Seeing him again? I'm not Ron," she said hotly, "I know the man had a role to play, but that can't have made it easier on you."

Hermione shrugged, wondering vaguely when the girl had turned into the Hogwarts's shrink. Damned intuitive, she was. "Yes. It's weird. I always knew I'd see him again, someday, albeit not quite as soon as this. What's weird is seeing his...guilt. He's a seasoned spy-or he was-but it was obvious the incident between us nearly sent him over the edge."

Ginny furrowed her brow, her eyes glazed over in thought. "I remember that night," she whispered. "The clatter in the kitchen, Mum's pounding down the stairs. It woke the whole house, and I thought it was Fred and George making trouble," she chucked sadly. It stopped quickly. "When we got there, when we saw Snape, he looked so...contrite isn't even the word for it. Tortured comes closer. It's actually the night he became more human to me."

Hermione shifted, unsure of whether or not she wanted to hear of the pain she'd inflicted. She chanced a glance at Violet, reassured that her head was still buried in the book.

"We suspected his cover was blown, which I guess was true. But when we asked if that was what had him so wound, he brushed it off like he'd almost forgotten it had. And then he said it." Her face contorted and Hermione saw, for the first time, how hard the girl had taken it. "'I couldn't save her,' he said. He kept repeating it. We all did a quick, silent head count as you can imagine and it didn't take long to realize who the missing link was."

She focused her gaze and turned it on Hermione.

"It took longer I believe," she whispered. "Ron collapsed. Remus went looking for you. Mum set about knitting a sweater, insisting you'd be cold when you returned. But Harry..." She gulped visibly. "Harry completely broke. He was the definition of manic. He'd already lost so much and after 6 years of near misses, I think you and Ron felt impenetrable to him. Untouchable. You were the two people he didn't have to fear losing, and then he did, and it shook his foundation, everything he believed in. He never was the same."

Hermione didn't know she was crying until she tasted salt on her lips. She sucked the years back noisily, which caused Ginny to look up sharply.

"I don't blame you, Hermione," she said forcefully. "Your attack was brutal and I can't promise I wouldn't have done the same; I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. I just want you to know how truly good it is to see you."

Hermione smiled tearfully, and nodded. "That doesn't change how sorry I am," she sighed. "The results of that night were bred entirely from my heart, not my head, and I regretted it almost immediately, but couldn't gather the courage to take it back.". She shook her head and plastered on a smile. "Let's talk about this baby!"

SSHG

He swirled around his second glass of firewhisky, wishing vehemently to drown himself in it. Resigning instead to belligerent drunkenness, he tossed it back and refilled a larger glass.

Exhaustion taunted his weary limbs, but he knew sleep, the fickle bitch that she was, would evade him like she had for the majority of his life. Either that, or plague him with memories disguised as nightmares.

He sucked back half his glass, reveling in the burn, wishing for a more intense pain. He deserved it. After all, he'd forced a child on a student, only to drag the both of them back into a world that had only hurt them.

They were so thin, his conscience taunted him, punishing him. So thin, in need of so much that he was perfectly able to give them, but he hadn't done a thing in that direction. He vowed then and there to speak with Miss-Hermione, and ask her if he were even permitted a hand in raising their daughter, a request he couldn't imagine she'd accept.

He should be burned for his actions.

He settled for a burn in his throat. He drained his third glass.


	9. Chapter 9

"Severus Tobias Snape!"

Severus jolted awake at a call that sounded suspiciously like his late mother's, and bit through the splitting headache until his eyes adjusted to his surroundings, though the dungeons looked much as they did when he drank himself into a stupor the night before. He groaned and allowed his head to loll forward, only to will it back against the chair when his eyes met a very, _very_ cross Minerva McGonagall.

"Of all the nerve," she spat. Without further ado, she set about trifling through his draws, pulling out miscellaneous scraps of clothing directly at his person, all the while muttering under her breath. After he had to duck abruptly to avoid being smacked by his boot, he jumped to his feet.

"For Merlin's sake, woman!" he screeched. "What on earth?"

She tossed his other boot at his feet and crossed her arms, all but tapping her toe like a stern schoolmarm. "Honestly," she hissed, "get dressed. We must prepare Miss Granger for her confrontation with Potter, and you'll not do clouded by the after-stench of booze."

He rolled his eyes but had learned in the past four years that arguing only prolonged the inevitable. He marched into his adjoining bathroom and changed quickly, taking the added measure of splashing water on his face and working a tooth brush rigorously throughout his mouth. When he at least looked like his aggressor might have been a poor night sleep, not a battle with the end of a bottle, he emerged. Much to the Potions professor's dismay, the infuriating woman still stood, foot-tapping and all.

"Anything else?" he drawled in a tone that said he sincerely hoped not.

She softened and approached him, ignoring the flinch when she set about straining his lank, untidy hair. "How are you?"

He stiffened and backed away from her deliberately. She sighed and let her hand fall, but made no other motion to leave him be.

"What are you on about?"

She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. "You _know_ what I'm on about." She picked several imaginary pieces of lint from her robes before continuing. "I know none of this-her return, the revelation of a child-can be easy for you. I also know you harbor a lot of blame." She gestured vaguely to the emptied, upturned handle of whiskey beside his vacated armchair. "You may think you're stealthy, but you haven't gone out of your way to hide it."

Severus crossed his arms in a fair imitation of her previous stance and growled. "I hadn't expected an intrusion at such an absurd hour."

She ignored him pointedly. "All I'm saying," she said loudly over him, "is to tread carefully, Severus. Don't let your dark inclinations cloud your judgement on this one. A child isn't something you expected, but don't let pride-or fear, for that matter-keep you from getting to know her while you've got the chance. You might take the opportunity to get acquainted with her mother as well, as something other than a student."

Severus bit his tongue, but was decidedly uncomfortable with her voicing his own thoughts from the previous night.

When she saw she wasn't going to get a word from him, she shook her head. "You can try to fool the rest of the bloody world, but you can't fool me, Severus," she muttered. "Put your best foot forward. The Headmaster's office, ten minutes." And she turned on her heel and was gone.

SSHG

An absurd amount of something frilly and pink landed on her face, pulling her from a fitful, but deep, sleep. She jolted awake, extraordinarily tense, but identified it as a lacy skirt that was suffocating her and her panic melted into giggles.

She felt a silent bubble of laughter beside her and removed the skirt to see Violet watching her curiously, but chuckling along, thinking she was supposed to. Hermione shook her head and kissed both of the girl's cheeks before sitting upright and grounding the sleep from her eyes. "Is this what you've chosen to wear?"

Violet nodded proudly and snatched the skirt back as though Hermione had threatened to steal it. "And a shirt to go with it?" The pride slowly waned from her face, and her smile fell. She'd forgotten a shirt

Hermione laughed again and tousled the girl's beautiful curls. "Let Mommy get dressed, and I'll help you."

Satisfied with her mother's answer, Violet nodded and exited, skirt in tow. Hermione tugged on a pair of black leggings, a black tank top, a sheer olive green blouse, and lace-up boots in a matter of moments. She dragged a comb through her curls until they fell becomingly and shrugged, satisfied. She was making her way to Violet's bedroom when several sharp raps on the door halted her progress. She frowned. Callers? First thing in the morning?

Hermione pulled the door wide to find a very unsettled Severus Snape standing before her. Oh...was she meant to be somewhere? "I'm sorry, am I late for something?"

Snape's eyes widened at her polite tone as though he expected to be turned away, before he caught up with himself and shook his head. "Take your time, Miss-Hermione. No, I was merely wondering if I might have a word?"

She balked at his tone. She'd never heard him so...uncertain? Polite? Tentative? Potentially all three. It was a good moment before she realized he was awaiting her consent.

"Oh, Gods-yes, yes, of course. Come in." She ushered him into a seat on the sofa. "Can I get you anything?"

He shook his head. When she turned to meet his eyes, she noticed his were focused on something eye level with her hip. She turned curiously to see Violet, still in her Princess footie-pajamas, peering around the edge of the wall that separated the hall from the sitting room. She glanced back at Snape who gulped visibly and took to studying his clasped hands and shrank away from the discomfort of it all.

"She needs help getting dressed," Hermione offered as an excuse. "Just give me a moment."

"Of course."

Hermione took Violet's hand and closed the door of the girl's room behind them. Once they were alone, the girl snatched back her hand and swiped two fingers against her left palm, signing the symbol for, "What?" in American Sign Language.

Hermione closed her fingers into a circle under her chin and then thrust it forward, separating her fingers as she went, signing the word, "Nothing." Violet narrowed her eyes, unconvinced, and it was one of the few times Hermione wished that her daughter wasn't so precocious. She ignored the girl's disbelief and took to studying her wardrobe.

When the emerged several moments later, Violet was clad in the chosen pink skirt and a simple long-sleeve white shirt. On her feet were a pair of pink ballet flats with a strap. The girl scurried out into the sitting room, taken by a fit of giggles for having escaped her mother who was chasing after her with a hairbrush in hand and a few barrettes clenched in her teeth.

"Hold it, young lady," Hermione said through her teeth, trying to suppress the laughter she felt bubbling. Violet sighed heavily, but acquiesced by collapsing dramatically onto the couch beside Snape, who stiffened but did not move away. Hermione could tell such a close physical proximity was taxing for him and sent a silent thank-you his way for having remained seated. Violet would not have taken well to it.

She finally managed to pin the girl's curls up with an elastic and several barrettes and let out a sigh of exasperation. "I'm through."

The girl immediately took to running again and Hermione could hear her toys clanging in another room. "Boundless energy, she has," Hermione commented, more to herself than to Snape, but he responded nonetheless.

"It's a joy to see."

Hermione's head shot up to meet his stare, and she could tell by his expression that perhaps he hadn't meant to say the words aloud. She smiled kindly to set him at ease, but didn't comment. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

He fidgeted unconsciously with the cuff of his robes, which was unsettling. The man was a former spy. Pressure was a constant for him, but here he sat in the presence of his daughter and the woman who birthed her and he couldn't sit still. "Before I begin, I want you to know I will not be insulted should you deny me. In fact, I expect it."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, wondering where in the world this was going, but nodded, allowing him to continue.

"I was wondering if you might find it in your heart to allow me to have a hand in raising the child. If not physically, then at least financially. Please, please allow me to give you that much." He spoke so quickly and all in one breath that it took her several seconds to decipher what it was he'd said.

WWhen she'd worked it out, she couldn't quite believe her ears. "You...you want to be a part of it? Of her?"

He nodded deeply. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure, if you'll allow it."

Hermione swallowed hard. "But you hate children." The words were out of her mouth before she'd even filtered them, and immediately she clapped a hand to her mouth.

He paled noticeably. "I do not hate children," he said softly, too softly. "I cherish innocence, which is a brilliance children embody. I am not a nice man, Miss Granger, not by any stretch, but I do value what it means to be a child. I am so...difficult in the classroom because it is a matter of safety, sometimes life and death. If I were jovial and children careless, the injuries would be far more frequent and far more extensive." He shrugged as if he thought this was obvious. "And I had a role to play."

Hermione nodded. Okay, that made sense. "I apologize, I just...well, you're very good at playing that role." She shook her head to clear it. "Professor, I'll not forbid you a role in Violet's life because frankly, she could do with an active father, a solid male influence. But I do not want to burden you. We won't just take your money."

"I want you to," he said quietly. "I have no use for the amount of money I make, and I have a responsibility to the both of you. Had I known how dire your living situation in Massachusetts was, I would've stepped in four years ago. I not only can, but should, make you comfortable. Allowing me to have contact with the child would simply be a gift to me, it is not something owed."

Hermione steeled herself and rested a hand on his forearm. She felt him stiffen but again, he did not pull away, so she let the contact continue. "I want you to see her," she said, matching his tone. "I...I need help with her. I'm not sure how to get her to speak again, how to get her to embrace magic not only around her, but _from_ her."

"I will do all I can to assist you."

Hermione smiled genuinely, so surprised at the words coming from him. "We need to start teaching you sign language."


End file.
